


5 Times Oliver and Marcus were Accidentally Discovered and the 1 Time They Actually Came out on Purpose

by transteverogers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, M/M, POV Outsider, slurs (for like 2 seconds right at the end)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 06:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12599856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transteverogers/pseuds/transteverogers
Summary: Oliver and Marcus have a habit of getting caught.





	5 Times Oliver and Marcus were Accidentally Discovered and the 1 Time They Actually Came out on Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> what am i doing who knows not me
> 
> find me on tumblr @ [transpookysteve](http://transpookysteve.tumblr.com/)

__________1__________

 

Remus was tired. It was late, well into the next day although he couldn’t be sure what time in the morning it was exactly. He wanted nothing more than to go back to his room and sleep off the agitation from the upcoming full moon. He couldn’t though, not when he has his duties as a teacher. With the threat of Black (Sirius, his mind said reminding him of everything the man was- is- couldn’t be to him) breaking out of Azkaban and being spotted in Hogsmeade weeks earlier, all of the teachers were taking turns at wondering around the castle for an entire night. Friday nights were Remus’s and the most threatening thing he’d seen all night was a harmless prank set up by the Weasley boys (for James, he left it alone).

 

As he rounded a corner on the third floor, he heard shuffling and low voices. Immediately, he took out his wand. Making sure to walk quietly, Remus made his way towards the noise. It seemed to be coming out of a cupboard nearby and he paused, hand hovering over the door knob for a moment.

 

“Oh, fuck you, you asshole.” One voice snarled, but it didn’t come across as unkind. There was a low chuckle in response before a pause and the voice spoke again. “Merlin’s-” it broke off in a low moan that Remus knew from his own experience had very little to do with pain.

 

Remus closed his eyes and let out a small sigh. If it had been any other time, if there hadn’t been a murderer on the loose, he would’ve left them. He knew, firsthand, how difficult it was to find any private time with someone. But still, these were students and it was dangerous to out this late.

 

He rapped loudly on the door.

 

The noises stopped immediately and Remus allowed himself a small smile. “Uh, yes?” the voice said.

 

“Perhaps, when you and your… friend are decent you should open the door.” Remus said cordially.

 

There was some shuffling and low even muttering that Remus couldn’t make out the exact words being said before the door opened. Stuffed inside the small cupboard were too rather burly 7th year boys. Remus recognised them from the Quidditch games earlier, captains for the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams. It took him a moment but he managed to remember their names.

 

“Uh, hello professor.” Wood said, looking properly flustered. His hair was messed up, more so than Flint’s, and he was wearing the Slytherin robes.

 

“Hello Mr. Wood, Mr. Flint.” Remus said, unable to keep the humour out of his voice. “A bit late for you boys, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes professor.” Wood said.

 

Flint seemed unable to talk when Remus’s eyes flicked over to him. “Well, I suppose it’s up to me to make sure you both get back to your dormitories, yes?”

 

“Yes professor.” Wood repeated and Remus motioned for him to lead the way back to the Gryffindor common room.

 

It was an awkward walk, to say the least. Remus couldn’t help but indulge in the awkwardness of it at the beginning but by the time they were nearing the Gryffindor common room he felt just as awkward as the other boys. He stopped at a corner just before the Gryffindor common room and Flint and Wood paused as well, unsure. “My shoes seemed to have come untied.” Remus said, even though they were perfectly tied. “Mr. Flint, why don’t you see that Mr. Wood makes it to the door alright while I tie these up.”

 

“Um, yessir.” Flint murmured and he and Wood hurried past him.

 

Apparently, neither boy understood subtlety but then again, Remus wasn’t really one to talk.

 

“I can’t believe you got us caught.” Wood hissed as soon as they disappeared from sight. There was a noise of something hitting fabric and Remus assumed at he’d slapped the other boy’s arm (he hoped it was the arm).

 

“Me?” Flint growled back.

 

“Well I wasn’t the one making any noise.” Wood huffed. “Seeing as my-”

 

Remus coughed loudly. He didn’t need to hear _any_ of that.

 

Wood lowered his voice but it didn’t seem to do much. “Look, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He sighed, obviously tired.

 

Flint was quiet for a moment. “Yeah.” He mumbled, almost incoherently.

 

There was a pause before the distinct sound of two lips meeting, although it didn’t last long (thankfully enough for Remus). “Don’t forget your charm books tomorrow.” Wood said softly and Remus could’ve sworn he’d misheard at first but no, he hadn’t. “You need all the practice you can get Flint.”

 

Flint laughed, something that Remus had never heard in his months teaching at Hogwarts. “Asshole.”

 

Remus couldn’t help but smile to himself, his own Hogwarts love story coming to head before he could redirect his thoughts. He sighed, rubbing at his face. It was late enough and, perhaps unlike the two boys around the corner, Remus did need his sleep. He stepped out from behind the corner, coughing loudly as he did as to not catch the boys by surprise.

 

They were flushed, same as when Remus had caught them in the cupboard but at least this time, they were wearing the proper house robes.

 

__________2__________

 

 

Angelina Johnson was going to ripe her hair out. It was a matter of fact at this point in her life. It was either ripe her hair out or murder Snape and she was not going to Azkaban.

 

(There was always the possibility of trying to get away with his murder but she figured it wasn’t worth the risk, not yet anyways.)

 

She huffed loudly once more, earning a couple looks from the tables around her. She was tempted to flip them off but restrained herself, knowing that pissing off some equally stressed 5th, 6th and 7th years wouldn’t help anyone. Instead, she shut her book and got up. Snape had assigned this book to use in their essays but she had a feeling there wasn’t much that would actually be of use to her in it. Cynically, she wondered if he’d given the Slytherins a book that would actually help them. She decided she wouldn’t be surprised if he had.

 

Making her way further into the library and towards the potion section, the amount of people seemed to thin out and she wondered if maybe she should have sat further in the library. Surely no one back here would be able to hear her frustrations. Just as she debating to move her things back here, she heard a rather loud conversation.

 

“It’s fucking useless.” Flint’s low voice growled, instantly bothering Angelina. She got enough of the Slytherin captain on the pitch, she did not wish to deal with him anywhere else.

 

It was the next voice that surprised her though. “No it’s not and you know that Marcus.” Oliver said, oddly patient. Rarely had she ever heard him use that voice on the pitch. Whatever Flint said next was so mutilated by his incoherent babbling that she was unable to make out what he said exactly (she wondered, distantly, if he’d even used words). “You could do it last week, you just need to clear your head.”

 

“I’ll clear _your_ head Wood.” Flint growled viciously.

 

Angelina was ready to whip around the corner if Flint made a move towards Oliver but, surprisingly, he laughed. “Like to see you try Flint.” He seemed to be teasing the other boy.

 

Angelina couldn’t believe her ears. Was Oliver _flirting_ with Flint of all people? She knew they hated each other but she couldn’t remember the last time they were actually vicious to one another. Sure, they taunted and verbally attacked each other on the field but off the field… she couldn’t remember any time where they had actively sought each other out, out of kindness or cruelty. Realising Flint was talking again, Angelina refocused in on their conversation.

 

“… See look, the damn thing won’t change into wine!” Flint honest to god _whined_.

 

Oliver chuckled. “You’re being too… wild with your wand.” He said and Angelina risked a glance around the corner. “Let me help you.”

 

The two men were sitting far closer than they needed to and Oliver seemed to be pulling his arm from around the back of Flint’s chair. He didn’t take his own wand to show Flint, instead opting to curl his hand around Flint’s, using the other boy’s hand as he moved it in the motion of the spell.

 

Flint’s face was flushed pink and Angelina’s jaw dropped slightly, taking in the scene in front of her. Flint looked over at Oliver, their faces barely apart. She could clearly see his eyes flicker towards Oliver’s lips. He lent in slowly, more gently than Angelina thought was even possible. Oliver kissed him back slowly, their hands going limp as Flint’s wand clattered to the table.

 

Angelina flushed, feeling as if she was witnessing something incredibly private. She turned back around the corner and hurried off, deciding to find Alicia to see if she had made any headway on their potions project.

 

__________3__________

 

“Relax,” Marcus’s voice came through the wooden door of their shared dormitory. “My roommates won’t be back for ages and by that time, we’ll be long gone babe.”

 

Adrian looked over at Terrence with a grin. Not only did Marcus have someone over, he called her _b_ _abe_. “Oh, this is too good.” He whispered, gleeful. He reached out for the doorknob, but Terrence stopped him. “What? You don’t want to embarrass the shit out of him?”

 

Terrence nodded. “We should make some noise, warn them and see if Flint tries to hide her. I wanna see how he’ll act.”

 

Adrian’s grin grew. “Oh you _devil_.” He motioned from Terrence to go down the steps, following him. He turned back around part way down and started up an overly loud conversation. “Well, you know how she is, she’ll sleep with anything that’ll have her I don’t understand how-”

 

By this point in the ‘conversation’ they had reached to door again, and Adrian fiddled with the doorknob for a moment, making sure to be loud and overly boisterous. “-anyone will sleep with her at this point. I think MacDonald gave her something and I’m sure-” He stopped, looking at Marcus. “What happened to you?”

 

Marcus was laying in the bed, shirt askew but no lady in sight. “Nothing.” He said gruffly. “What the hell are you two doing here.” It wasn’t a question.

 

Terrence shrugged. “Library was too loud, you know how Pucey gets around people.”

 

Adrian looked over, offended. “How I get around people?” He asked pointedly, arms crossed.

 

Terrence’s expression barely changed but Adrian knew him enough that he looked sheepish. “You get… loud and unfocused if there’s too many people and then I can’t focus.”

 

Adrian regarded him with a look for a moment, feeling momentarily guilty but he turned back to Marcus. “Anyways, you didn’t answer my question.” He persisted. “What happened to you? You look like someone was in here attacking you or…” he paused, lips curling up in a sly smile. “Like they were making out with you.”

 

Marcus’s face didn’t change but it got slightly pinker. “Why would you say that?”

 

“Hm, no reason.” Adrian said, casually heading over to Marcus’s side of the room. “Say, Marky-boy, you aren’t seeing anyone are you?”

 

“Call me that again and you won’t see another Quidditch game for as long as I’m captain.” Marcus growled.

 

“Answer the question.” Adrian sat down on the bed next to Marcus’s, pulling his feet up onto it.

 

Marcus huffed. “Maybe.” He conceded. They all knew what a terrible liar Marcus was, so much so that he didn’t even both trying to lie to them anymore.

 

Adrian grinned. “What’s her name?” Marcus shifted awkwardly and Adrian was hit with a sudden thought, one that made his grin widen impossibly. “Or… what’s his name?”

 

“I-” Marcus said, eyes flickering over to his wardrobe and Adrian was up and over there before either of the other boys could blink. “Adrian, don’t-”

 

Adrian paid him no mind, pulling open the wardrobe doors to be faces with- “Wood?”

 

Wood was half crouched, barely fitting in Marcus’s closet (a joke which wasn’t lost on Adrian) and looked properly and throughly embarrassed to be caught. “Uh, Pucey. Hi.”

 

Adrian took a step back, allowing Wood to come out of the closet. “Right well, I’ll grant you that was not something I was expecting.”

 

Terrence shrugged. “I was.” All three boys turned their heads to look at him and he shrugged. “He’s been complaining about Wood a lot less for the past while and he’s been less aggressive towards the Gryffindor team.”

 

“Right well uh,” Wood said looking between the three Slytherins. “This was… not what I had in mind for the night.”

 

Adrian linked his arm through Wood’s, startling him. “Well why don’t I escort you out hm? Wouldn’t want him to get mobbed by Slytherins and our poor captain doesn’t seem to be in the state to do that.”

 

“I can-” Wood started to protest but Adrian ignored him and tugged him out and into the hallway, shutting the door firmly behind him before turning on Wood.

 

“How serious are you?” He asked, getting straight to the point.

 

Wood’s eyebrows furled. “About…?” He trailed off, obviously confused. Adrian sighed. It seemed all Quidditch captains were this dull.

 

“Marcus, you idiot.” Adrian crossed his arms. He might be a smaller guy, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t beat Wood up and so Merlin help him, he would.

 

Wood seemed to pick up what Adrian was putting down, finally. “I-I,” he stuttered and Adrian raised an eyebrow. “Merlin’s beard, stop looking at me like that.” He mumbled. “Look we’re not just fooling around if that’s what you’re asking. We’re… well we’re whatever Marcus wants to call us, I’m not going to scare him off by demanding labels.”

 

Adrian snorted. “Yeah because that’s a good idea, leaving things ambiguous isn’t going to cause you problems in the future.” He finally took pity on Wood and dropped his fifth degree glare. “Look we both know Marcus is too emotionally stunted to bring it up himself, you’re going to have to do it Wood.”

 

Wood bit his bottom lip and, for a moment, Adrian could see what Marcus saw in him. He was attractive enough, well built from Quidditch but he retained some innocent, puppy dog look that Slytherins lost early on. He wasn’t Adrian’s type (his was the strong, silent and smart type and his mind most definitely did not supply Terrence, thankyouverymuch) but he was attractive enough. “Yeah.” Wood finally sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.”

 

“Hm, obviously.” Adrian said and, deciding the conversation was over, pulled out his wand and tapped Wood on the head, casting a disillusion charm over him. “Follow me, be quiet and I’ll take that off of you once we’re out of the common room.”

 

__________4__________

 

“Well well well,” Fred leered, looking down at his captain and Flint, of all people, half undressed on the greenhouse ground. “What do we have here Georgie?”

 

“I believe it’s our good captain Fred,” George grinned. “And he just happens to be with our sworn enemy?”

 

Oliver flushed but he managed to continue glaring at the twins. “We were busy.” He huffed. His shirt was undone and pushed open, while Flint had lost his and his pants were undone, boxers and the tent in them quite evident. “What are you two even doing here?”

 

George shrugged, sitting up on one of the tables and not loosing his grin. “Certainly not meeting with a secret lover.”

 

Flint turned to Oliver, eyebrow raised. “I thought you were telling your team. I told mine.”

 

Oliver had the decency to look sheepish. “I hadn’t gotten around to it.”

 

“Why Wood, are you ashamed?” Fred leaned in. He looked Flint up and down. “I mean, his face isn’t anything to write home about and he’s kind of a dick-”

 

“Would you mind not insulting my boyfriend?” Wood huffed.

 

Flint just laughed and leaned back, grabbing his shirt off the ground where Wood had thrown it earlier. He tugged it on. “Oh no, no need to get dressed for us.” Fred winked.

 

“First you insult my boyfriend, now you hit on him?” Wood crossed his arms and sat up, half in Flint’s lap.

 

Fred shrugged. “I’m a man of equal opportunity.”

 

“I see what you mean by them being a handful.” Flint mumbled to Oliver but all of the men heard his comment.

 

George smirked. “Why Freddie, you never told me Oliver’s had a handful of you?”

 

Fred pretended to swoon. “Oh, Georgie, if only!”

 

Oliver reached over and swatted him on the leg. “Shut up, you’re gonna get us caught!” He stood up, boner finally gone. He looked down, doing up his buttons as Flint got up as well.

 

“No we won’t.” Fred said simply. “Filch doesn’t do the rounds out here in winter, he doesn’t like the cold.”

 

Oliver looked closely at the two of them, it finally occurring to them that this was after curfew. Fred and George Weasley were most definitely not out of bed for pure or innocent reasons. “What exactly are you two doing out of bed?”

 

The twins shared a look, the same smirk covering their faces. They opened their mouths, about to say something but Oliver held up a hand. “You know what, no. I’ve changed my mind.” He said decisively. “I want to have plausible deniability.” He paused for a moment. “Just like you two will deny you saw me or Marcus here.”

 

“Why, captain oh captain,” George said simply but with a sparkle of mischief, “It’s after curfew. None of us were out of bed, that would just be wrong.”

 

__________5__________

 

 

John Wood sat at the head of his dinning room table, looking at the three people in front of him. His wife, Ellen, sat to his left, and was talking quietly to his son about the Quidditch season (John himself had no particular interest in the game other than that his wife was a player and his son one too. It seemed no matter how many games he watched, he couldn’t quite grasp the rules of the game). On his right sat a young man who John had never met before. He had introduced himself as Marcus Flint, a friend of Oliver’s and he does remember Oliver mentioning him in letters. They weren’t always polite letters about Marcus but within the past year they had steadily become less hostile about him.

 

“So Marcus,” John said, turning to his guest. “You also play Quidditch?”

 

Marcus nodded and his eyes flickered to Oliver, but he was in deep conversation with his mother. “Yes.” He paused. “Uh, sir.”

 

John waved him off casually. “John’s fine. What position do you play?”

 

“Chaser.” He said.

 

John paused thinking for a second. “That’s the one that scores yes?” Marcus nodded and so John carried on. “I’m a muggle, so I never grew up with the game and honestly, I was never quite big on sports. Some parts of the game are still foreign to me, even after all these years.”

 

“He’s a great cheerleader though,” Ellen pipped up, smiling over at him. “Even if he doesn’t understand what’s happening.”

 

John smiled back at her, love evident all over his face. “Thank you love.”

 

Before his wife could say anything else, Oliver cut in. “Uh, dad? Can me and Marcus be excused? I wanted to show him around town before it got too dark.”

 

John glanced at the window. It was practically dark already but his son was 17. “Try to be back before 10, it’s getting cold real fast out there boys. And layer up.” He added as Oliver stood up.

 

He nodded, kissing his father and mother on the head before heading over to the front door, Marcus following behind him. They left quickly enough, leaving the kitchen mess for John and his wife to clean up.

 

They cleaned fairly quickly, plates washing themselves as they retired to the front room, John with his manuscript and Ellen with her playbook and a quill. They sat for a couple hours, working in quiet before they heard laughter from outside. Ellen was absorbed in her work and didn’t pause to look up but John did, watching the scene unfold before him.

 

Oliver and Marcus seemed to be making their way back from town, their arms swinging in between them, hands linked. John’s eyebrow raised and he’d wondered, not for the first time during Marcus’s stay, if they were perhaps something a little different than friends. Marcus tugged on Oliver, perhaps with a bit too much strength and the two tumbled into the front lawn of John’s neighbours, Oliver landing on top of Marcus.

 

They were laughing louder and Marcus threw some snow on Oliver’s face, a sharp bark of laughter emitting from him. Oliver got up quickly and, while doing so, shove some snow onto Marcus before taking off. Marcus peeled off after him, chasing him up and down the street before finally managing to catch him around the waist, shoving snow down the back of his jacket (John was not looking forward to the cold that was likely to come from this).

 

Their laughter died down as they realised how close they were and, just as John was deciding that now might be a good time to turn back to his manuscript, Marcus lent down.

 

John turned back to the words in front of him, deciding that perhaps he might like to have a word with his son about inviting his boyfriend home without informing them.

 

__________+1__________

 

Marcus was wondering around the castle grounds just after Christmas break, riding on a high. Not only had he spent a whole 2 weeks with Oliver, basically uninterrupted but his family had been so kind and accepting of Marcus, even after they had realised the two were in a relationship and that Marcus was a year older, having failed his NEWTs. Marcus had never known unconditional acceptance like that.

 

He was rounding a corner when he heard it.

 

“Oh come on you little fag.” The voice belonged to a Slytherin a few years below him and he was towering over a hufflepuff first or second years (by the looks of him). He was a tall, skinny boy with barely any meat on his bones but he was old enough to terrify the younger boy. “Just admit it.”

 

Marcus, usually, would just walk past a scene like this. He might know it wasn’t right but it wasn’t his business. But hearing that word, after the 2 weeks he just had, really fucking _pissed him off._ “Oi.” He said, crossing his arms.

 

The Slytherin boy turned around and Marcus was able to put a last name to the face, Turner. “The fuck you want Flint?”

 

Marcus sighed internally. He was going to get so much shit from the other Slytherins for doing this. “Piss off.” He said simply, hoping that would be enough.

 

Turner looked between the terrified hufflepuff and Marcus and raised an eyebrow. “The fuck you protecting the faggy hufflepuff for?” He took a step towards Marcus, apparently having no self preservation skills. “You one too?”

 

“Well seeing as I’m letting Wood fuck me on the regular,” Marcus smirked. “I’d say yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ [transpookysteve](http://transpookysteve.tumblr.com/)


End file.
